Droplets
by Captain Hilts
Summary: He doesn't give a shit about much these days, but for the kid he could start to care, just a little. Oneshot.


It can't be the first time the kid has seen blood. There isn't even a lot of it, just the steady drip and trail from the chunk of flesh he's lost in his left shoulder. The axe caught him on the backswing. A mistake. He was sloppy.

The kid might have had something to do with that, because the last thing he remembers is the boy smacked some twenty feet back into what had once been a bank before the gang of Class A baddies had taken it over. After that, all he saw was red. Reduced the monsters to nothing. They bled bluish blood. Lots more of them had filtered into the cities ever since Baldy had taken down the ship. At least it was a steady job now.

"Zombieman."

He pauses in his work. The gauze is tight enough and the gash is already starting to heal even though he'd cut himself to the bone. The doctors don't bother examining him anymore. He looks at the boy sitting across from him in the infirmary. Child Emperor seems pale, a butterfly bandage bright on his forehead, a few bruises on his arms. Got out with only a scratch, though he looks like he's just come out of surgery or something. For the first time, a flutter of worry spreads in his chest. He hopes the kid won't pass out or something.

"I'm all right," Zombieman says. "Accidents happen."

Child Emperor squares his jaw, balls his small fists. "It wouldn't have if I was paying attention."

"You did what you were supposed to do." He winces as the shredded muscle of his shoulder realigns itself. Doesn't burn as much as he expected. Not that big a deal at all. Child Emperor still looks unconvinced. He hangs his head. Zombieman tosses some bloody gauze into the trash bin, and slides off the examination table, crinkling the paper as he goes.

"Bastards didn't mess up your rig, did they?" he asks.

Child Emperor shakes his head. Without the backpack on he looks smaller. Zombieman wonders why the hell the kid is so subdued. Usually he's running his mouth, talking a big game, figuring shit out. This time, he's different. He's too quiet.

"The rig broke my fall automatically. S' why I'm not messed up."

Zombieman pulls his coat on. Only a little bit of tightness as he rolls his shoulders. It'll heal within the hour. He tucks his hands into his pockets. He's out of cigarettes and he has nothing to occupy himself. He's still a little amped up from the fight. Needs something to take his mind off it.

"You hungry?"

Child Emperor nods.

"You gotta be home soon?"

"No."

Zombieman smirks. "Your parents don't give you curfew?"

"They don't care what I do as long as I get good grades and make money."

Zombieman laughs, though he knows the kid wasn't expecting him to. It's a job after all, and the kid is entitled to his job. He nods his head forward.

"Drinks are on me," he says.

Child Emperor finally smiles.

* * *

He goes to the same place every Friday, sometimes Saturday if he's busy. If a Hero Association meeting coincides with his routine, his routine wins out every time. A small place just outside the line outdoor market stalls in the summer. A nice young couple runs the place. They have the best ramen in the city and no one can argue with him about it.

Child Emperor wobbles into a seat by the window and sits at the table, crossing his arms. He's still a little jarred by the motorcycle ride. Zombieman nods to the owner. She smiles at him and only asks for the kid's order. He ends up ordering ramen, too. Zombieman gets him a soda and sips a glass of water for himself. No drinking when he has the bike out. Plus the water helps with his healing.

Zombieman chats the kid up about their visit to the hot springs, about school, about robots, even manga, though he sucks at remembering the names to any of the titles. Their noodles come and Zombieman realizes just how hungry he is. The fight took a lot out of him. He worried too much about the kid. Child Emperor finally starts talking without prompted after the food comes. Zombieman listens to him go on about a special project he's working on, something to enhance the backpack rig he has. He wants to put a scythe on it or something.

"Sounds cool."

Child Emperor sighs. "If I can get all the specs right." He takes a moment to eyeball Zombieman as he slurps up his noodles. "Why did you take me here anyway?"

He shrugs one shoulder. "You looked like you needed someone to talk to."

"I'm not a baby."

"Did I say you were?"

"...no. But everyone else-"

"Who gives a shit?"

At that, the kid shrinks a little. Zombieman puts down his bowl and wipes his mouth. "You're an S rank hero. You're there for a reason. Who gives a rat's ass what any of the others think. They're all full of shit in their own ways."

"What about you?"

Zombieman smiles. "I'm full of shit, too. But you're not. And there's no reason for you to feel guilty about anything that happens to me."

True to his age, the kid is stubborn. "Why am I not full of ...shit?"

Zombieman almost laughs at the hesitant curse word but stops himself. He looks out the window so the kid feels less put on the spot, eats another mouthful of noodles before continuing, still chewing.

"When we were at the hot springs, people either avoided me or talked about me without actually talking to me. I'm used to that by now, but it does piss me off sometimes."

Child Emperor looked at him crookedly. "You usually don't say anything."

"I'm nice most of the time. I do work with those people y'know," Zombieman says. He burps a little. "Look, I'm not saying they're all bad, but a lot of them aren't good. Myself included. You're one of the good ones. You should know that."

He finishes the bowl of ramen and clatters it with the other dishes. Child Emperor watches him, thinking. Zombieman drinks his water and stares out the window again, watching the people head toward the park. B City has the best parks, as far as he's concerned. Even if he did get shot in one once. Times have changed, though. The place is a lot better. If he squints, he can see the Hero Association tower far away on the horizon, a dark smudge past the green fields.

"Why didn't you come to the final battle?" Child Emperor asks.

"It didn't seem like the end of the world to me."

"If Saitama hadn't brought the ship down the fighting would have lasted for months."

"I would have come back if I thought there was a threat. I had my own shit going on at the time. The meeting interrupted that."

Someone had burned down the House of Evolution. All of his evidence lost. So close to putting away that son of a bitch forever and someone just fucking burnt it all down. All that's left are his documents. His word against a ghost's. Zombieman picks up the kid's half-drank soda and takes a chug. Child Emperor doesn't even blink.

"People talk smack about that, but in the end they're glad I keep coming back," Zombieman says. "They'd be much more worried if I never showed up period. It's not like they aren't keeping tabs on me."

"Still," Child Emperor says. "We could've used you."

He sighs. "Greaseball was swinging his bat. I figured you didn't need another guy throwing around an inanimate object."

Child Emperor slams his fists on the table. Enough to almost knock over the pitcher of water the waitress left for them. Zombieman straightens it with his index finger.

"No one listens to me!" The kid is mad and gritting his teeth. His eyes are a little too bright. "If you had been there you would have listened. But you ditched us."

Zombieman quirks his eyebrow. "You're still alive and I'm here now, so what does it matter?"

"I don't know." Child Emperor sniffs, but his pride won't let him cry. "I like you for some reason."

He laughs at that. And for once it's an honest laugh, a laugh he can feel in his chest and he's smiling a real smile. He knows why Child Emperor likes him. Zombieman doesn't bullshit him; he treats him like a person, not a child. The boy's a bit of a smartass, too. And even if the most recent mission had gotten a little hairy, they would make a pretty good team.

"Let's see if you like me after a few more rounds in the field," Zombieman says.

Child Emperor looks surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Something to think about. We could keep everyone on their toes. You did tell everyone Tatsumaki was the one who stabbed me at the hot springs and I thought that was pretty fuckin funny. She's still embarrassed about that."

The kid grins.

Zombieman pays for the dinner and they take a walk in the park. He lets the kid vent about school some more, and realizes in a sad sort of way, that Child Emperor's parents probably don't want to hear him talk about how difficult school is because they've pushed him into it in the first place. He buys the kid some ice cream, and even though he doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, Zombieman gets some too. People walking by don't give them a second look, something he's not really used to. Most likely because his wounds aren't so public this time. No one recognizes him these days unless he's drenched in blood.

So he and Child Emperor walk along, and he occasionally steers the kid out of the way of joggers, baby strollers, etc, because apparently Child Emperor can't walk, talk, and eat ice cream at the same time. It dawns on him, that they might look like brothers to everyone else, and Zombieman feels, however briefly, like he's ten years old again, standing in a park in B City after beating up a gang of bullies, the taste of iron and chocolate chip in his mouth, watching families with dogs and babies and mothers while sniffing back blood from a broken nose. Child Emperor looks up at him all excited about specs for the new rig again and says he could add an axe, just for him. Zombieman smirks.

He doesn't give a shit about much these days, but for the kid he could start to care, just a little.


End file.
